A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed?

Tell me, sweet lord, what is't, that takes from thee
Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep?
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth;
And start so often when thou sit'st alone?
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks,
And given my treasures, and my rights of thee,
To thick-ey'd musing, and curs'd melancholy?
In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch'd,
And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars:
Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed;
Cry, Courage!-to the field! And thou hast talk'd
Of sallies, and retires; of trenches, tents,
Of pallisadoes, frontiers, parapets;

Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin;

Of prisoners' ransome, and of soldiers slain,
And all the 'currents of a heady fight.
Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war,
And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep,
That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow,
Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream:
And in thy face strange motions have appear'd,
Such as we see, when men restrain their breath
On some great sudden haste. O, what portents are these?
Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,

And I must know it, else he loves me not.

Hot. What, ho! is Gilliams with the packet gone?

Enter Servant.

Serv. He is, my lord, an hour ago.

Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses from the she

riff?

Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought even now.
Hot. What horse? a roan, a crop-ear, is it not?
Serv. It is, my lord.

Hot. That roan shall be my throne.

Well, I will back him straight: O esperance!

Bid Butler lead him forth into the park. [Exit Servant.

Lady. But hear you, my lord.

Hot. What say'st, my lady?

Lady. What is it carries you away?
Hot. My horse,

My love, my horse.

Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape!
A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen,
As you are toss'd with. In faith,

I'll know your business, Harry, that I will.
I fear, my brother Mortimer doth stir
About his title; and hath sent for you,
To line his enterprize: but if you go-

Hot. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love.
Lady. Come, come, you paraquito, answer me
Directly to this question that I ask.

In faith, I'll break thy little finger, Harry,
An if thou will not tell me all things true.
Hot. Away,

Away, you trifler!-Love?-I love thee not,
I care not for thee, Kate: this is no world,
To play with mammets, and to tilt with lips:
We must have bloody noses, and crack'd crowns,
And pass them current too.-Gods me, my horse!—
What say'st thou, Kate? what would'st thou have with

me?

Lady. Do you not love me? do you not, indeed?

Well, do not then; for, since you love me not,
I will not love myself. Do you not love me?
Nay, tell me, if you speak in jest, or no,

Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride?
And, when I am o'horse-back, I will swear
I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate;
I must not have you henceforth question me
Whither I go, nor reason whereabout:
Whither I must, I must; and, to conclude,
This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate.
I know you wise; but yet no further wise,
Than Harry Percy's wife: constant you are;
But yet a woman: and for secrecy,

No lady closer; for I well believe,

Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know;

And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate!

Lady. How! so far?

Hot. Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate?

Whither I go, thither shall you go too;

To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you.-
Will this content you, Kate?

Lady. It must, of force,

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-Eastcheap. A Room in the Boar's-Head

Tavern.

Enter Prince HENRY and POINS.

P. Hen. Ned, pr'ythee, come out of that fat room, and lend me thy hand to laugh a little.

Poins. Where hast been, Hal?

P. Hen. With three or four loggerheads, amongst

three or four score hogsheads. I have sounded the very base string of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash of drawers; and can call them all by their Christian names, as-Tom, Dick, and Francis. They take it already upon their salvation, that, though I be but prince of Wales, yet I am the king of courtesy; and tell me flatly I am no proud Jack, like Falstaff; but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy,-by the Lord, so they call me; and when I am king of England, I shall command all the good lads in Eastchcap. They call-drinking deep, dying scarlet: and when you breathe in your watering, they cry-hem! and bid you play it off. To conclude, I am so good a proficient in one quarter of an hour, that I can drink with any tinker in his own language during my life. I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost much honour, that thou wert not with me in this action. But, sweet Ned,-to sweeten which name of Ned, I give thee this pennyworth of sugar, clapped even now in my hand by an under-skinker; one that never spake other English in his life, than-Eight shillings and sixpence, and-You are welcome; with this shrill addition,—Anon, anon, sir! Score a pint of bastard in the Half-moon, or so. But, Ned, to drive away the time till Falstaff come, I pr'ythee, do thou stand in some byroom, while I question my puny drawer, to what end he gave me the sugar; and do thou never leave callingFrancis, that his tale to me may be nothing but-anon. Step aside, and I'll show thee a precedent.

Poins. Francis!

P. Hen. Thou art perfect.

Poins. Francis!

[Exit POINS.

Enter FRANCIS.

Fran. Anon, anon, sir.-Look down into the Pomegranate, Ralph,

P. Hen. Come hither, Francis.

Fran. My lord.

P. Hen. How long hast thou to serve, Francis?
Fran. Forsooth, five year, and as much as to
Poins. [Within.] Francis!

Fran. Anon, anon, sir.

P. Hen. Five years! by'rlady, a long lease for the clinking of pewter. But, Francis, darest thou be so valiant, as to play the coward with thy indenture, and to shew it a fair pair of heels, and run from it?

Fran. O lord, sir! I'll be sworn upon all the books In England, I could find in my heart

Poins. [Within.] Francis!

Fran. Anon, anon, sir.

P. Hen. How old art thou, Francis?

Fran. Let me see,-About Michaelmas next I shall be

Poins. [Within.] Francis!

Fran. Anon, sir.-Pray you, stay a little, my lord. P. Hen. Nay, but hark you, Francis: For the sugar thou gavest me, 'twas a pennyworth, was't not?

Fran. O lord, sir! I would, it had been two.

P. Hen. I will give thee for it a thousand pound: ask me when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it.

Poins. [Within.] Francis!

Fran. Anon, anon.

P. Hen. Anon, Francis? No, Francis: but to-morrow,